


Gather Ye Rosebuds

by Kispexi2



Category: Saiyuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-13
Updated: 2008-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kispexi2/pseuds/Kispexi2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p><i>Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,</i><br/>Old Time is still a-flying:<br/>And this same flower that smiles to-day<br/>To-morrow will be dying.</p>
<p><i>The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,</i><br/>The higher he's a-getting,<br/>The sooner will his race be run,<br/>And nearer he's to setting.</p>
<p><i>That age is best which is the first,</i><br/>When youth and blood are warmer;<br/>But being spent, the worse, and worst<br/>Times still succeed the former.</p>
<p><i>Then be not coy, but use your time,</i><br/>And while ye may, go marry:<br/>For having lost but once your prime,<br/>You may for ever tarry. </p>
<p><i>To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time</i> - Robert Herrick</p></blockquote>





	Gather Ye Rosebuds

_CRASH!_

What is probably the temple's most treasured heirloom goes flying and explodes, scattering a storm of blue and white shards across Sanzo's bare office floor.

Goku freezes, feather duster hanging guiltily in the empty space left behind by the fallen urn.

"Oops."

His mouth has twisted into an apologetic grimace but his eyes are twinkling, as if at any moment he might burst into a fit of giggles.

Sanzo's temper snaps and he marches over to him, shattered Wanli porcelain crunching unpleasantly under his sandals as he goes.

"Cretin!" he thunders, bringing his harisen down hard on the monkey's head. _That'll teach the idiot to wield a duster like a goddamn weapon!_ "Can't you do anything without messing about? My office is not a fucking playground! Grow up, will you?!"

Another couple of thwacks with the fan has Goku cringing, arms crossed over his head ready to fend off more blows.

"Ow! Ow! Okay, okay! I get th' message! I'm goin'!"

Dodging out of fan-range, he makes a dive for the door, but Sanzo grabs his trailing hair and reels him back.

"You are going _nowhere_, monkey," he informs him sternly. "You are going to stay here until every last bit of that vase has been swept up, understand?"

Goku gives an affronted little grunt.

"And if I find so much as a single splinter when I get back," Sanzo continues, with a snarl, "I'll kill you. Got that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Goku confirms airily enough for Sanzo to give him another crack with the fan.

"You've got an hour."

 

* * * * * 

 

It's his own fault, Sanzo thinks bitterly, as he stomps along the corridor that leads out of the temple. He _knew_ that Goku with a duster in hand would be more tornado than spring-cleaner, but when the monkey turned those irresistible eyes on him, begging to be allowed to 'help', Sanzo had yet again found himself unable to say 'no'. What a fucking joke! It's bad enough that he's been saddled with Goku for over two years already; even worse that he still hasn't learnt to ignore the relentless demanding and pleading. If Sanzo believed in the existence of the gods, he'd be picturing them laughing at him right now. This is just the kind of situation those twisted bastards would find funny. Taking a fierce drag on his cigarette, he casts a black scowl heavenwards - just in case.

A pale lemon sun beams down at him out of a limpid blue sky.

Sanzo growls at it. He's never liked spring. After the austerity and privations of winter, its boisterousness seems like a slap in the face. He can't abide the almost-colours, the tentative green shoots, the pathetic shivering of new foliage. He wants the season to make up its goddamn mind and get the hell on with it. The coy way newly emerged flowers dip their heads enrages him. If plants are going to grow and put forth blossoms, they should do it proudly, aggressively - not creep in nervously, as if asking for permission to be. How long do they have, anyway? A few short months and they'll be turning brown and withering. _Dying_. They don't have time to piss away hesitating.

All of a sudden, Sanzo finds he's reached the little orchard near the temple's perimeter wall and is wading ankle-deep through drifts of cherry blossom. The delicate pink petals cling to the hem of his robes and stick to his socks. It's annoying and Sanzo stamps his feet angrily to be rid of them. _Fucking cherry blossom_. It's here one minute and gone the next, unable to withstand even the slightest puff of wind. What's the goddamn use of that? There _isn't_ any! The stupid stuff is a total waste of energy.

Sanzo opens the wrought iron gate that leads out of the temple grounds and steps into the field beyond, where the grass is already long enough to need cutting. In the distance, a couple of farmers are bent over, swinging their scythes in a slow, steady rhythm and the scent of the freshly-cut stalks - green and sharp, enthusiastic and vigorous - wafts over on the breeze.

Sanzo runs a finger around the inside of the collar of his vest, unsurprised to find it's damp with sweat. Spring has always filled him with an excess of energy that's damn near impossible to burn off. No wonder he feels so dissatisfied and restless.

On a nearby tree, an anonymous brown bird is pouring the most glorious song into the morning air. Not that Sanzo is fooled for a single moment. There's no joy in those notes; they're simply a mix of advertisement and threat: "Come shag me!" and "Piss off, this territory's mine." All fuelled by the biological imperative to mate that hits most living things like a sledgehammer at this time of year. Sanzo snorts. His body can make him feel as restless as it fucking likes, but he's never going to do _that_. Not that he has anything against women; it's just that he's never much liked their soft, moist bodies and their physical frailty turns his stomach. So the stupid itch of need scraping at his senses is pointless. It might as well give up now; it's never going to be satisfied.

Sanzo walks on past the grass-cutters to the fields beyond. Here the grass was obviously cut several days ago. The fallen stems have already turned brown and are clumped together, in damp, decaying heaps. The scent on the air is very different too - rich, deep and sweet.

Like vanilla.

Like pipe-smoke.

Sanzo blinks and tries to focus on the scene before him but it's too late. The memory has already taken hold ...  


_Kouryuu dropped the last of the carrots he'd been told to peel into a vast pan of cold water standing on the kitchen counter and wiped his hands dry on his robes. Several of the other boys – still with big stacks of potatoes and turnips in front of them – shot him envious looks. A few muttered about it not being fair but Kouryuu ignored them. They'd have finished their chores too if they hadn't wasted so much time mucking about. Souta had spent ages carefully carving likenesses of the senior priests into his potatoes and Naoki had started a water fight. Kouryuu shook his head wearily. Silly kids, all of them._

_Once out of the kitchen and with nothing else to do, he decided to make his way to his master's office. If Koumyou Sanzo didn't have any tasks for him, he'd sit and read quietly at the priest's feet. He was quite happy to spend his time studying._

_Koumyou Sanzo's door was closed but when Kouryu rapped on it gently, instead of hearing his master's voice, he was answered by the sound of violent sneezing. Pushing the door open carefully, he peered into the room, astonished to see Koumyou Sanzo perched on top of a high-legged stool, waving something that looked like a Technicolor chicken on a stick at his book shelf._

_"Master ..?" Kouryuu asked, uncertainly. "What ..?"_

_Koumyou Sanzo smiled down at him._

_"Spring-cleaning, Kouryuu!" he announced cheerfully. "And look – Priest Chen-tao got me this lovely feather duster the last time he was in the village!"_

_He brandished the implement like a trophy but Kouryuu frowned._

_"Someone else should do that," he sniffed. "It's not fitting that you-"_

_"Oh dear! What have we been teaching you?" Koumyou jumped down from his stool, landing on light feet right in front of Kouryuu. He didn't look pleased. "Not fitting, Kouryuu? Shouldn't people clean up after themselves?"_

_"Yes!" Kouryuu cried. "_People_ should. But, master, you're a sanzo pr-"_

_A sudden mouthful of feathers cut him off._

_"Nonsense!" Koumyou Sanzo laughed. "The duty of a priests is to serve. As the highest priest, a sanzo ought to serve _more_ than others, not less! I can see I need to clear your mind of such dusty thinking!"_

_With a broad grin, he set about tickling Kouryuu's nose and cheeks playfully with his duster._

_"We must get everything spick and span, you know, Kouryuu!",/i&gt;_

_Kouryuu shifted, a little embarrased by his master's affectionate attention._

_"Please, master – if there's work to be done, let me help."_

_He held out his hand for the duster but Koumyou just swirled the feathers over his palm._

_"No! Absolutely not. It's a beautiful day, Kouyruu. Let's leave the work for later and have a picnic instead!"_

_"But master ... is it right to leave the work undone?"_

_Koumyou rolled his eyes and threw an arm around Kouryuu's shoulders, the heavy, vanilla-scented weight of his sleeve warm against Kouryuu's back._

_"Ah, Kouryuu! You're so serious. Always in such a hurry to grow up." He gave Kouryuu a little squeeze. "Spring is a gift to be _enjoyed_. Never feel guilty for doing that, Kouryuu – after all, winter will be here soon enough."_

  


A lump rises in Sanzo's throat but he swallows it down determinedly, and turns to retrace his steps back to the temple. The undistinguished little brown bird is still singing away on its branch, but it's been joined by a second and together they're engaged in a crazy duet of silver and gold notes that weave in and out of each other, impossibly tuneful, unbelievably bright. Despite everything he knows, it's hard for Sanzo to believe it's simple rivalry. It sounds like joy.

He hurries on, ignoring the way the newly-cut grass leaves green stains on his socks and barely noticing the fringe of cherry blossom dangling from his robes, until he reaches his office.

He throws open the door and a shaft of light pierces the gloom, falling on the crouched figure of Goku, who's still frantically sweeping with a dustpan and brush.

"I'm not done yet!" the monkey cries, trying to shoo Sanzo back out again. "You said an hour! It's only been-"

"It doesn't matter."

Sanzo steps into the room. Something cracks under his foot and Goku's eyes go wide with fear.

"I-I ... Don't kill me!"

Sanzo cuffs his head gently.

"I'm not going to. Come on. Get up. We're going out. I think we should have a picnic."

Goku gapes.

"A picnic? Ya mean it? Really?!"

"I said so, didn't I?"

"Yay!" Goku squeals and flings himself at Sanzo, hugging him tightly with strong, sinewy arms. "You're th' best, Sanzo!"

He's been inside Sanzo's smoky office all morning and yet he still smells fresh and green. For a moment, Sanzo allows himself to be held and not feel guilty about it. He doesn't even feel guilty that Goku smells, not of vanilla, but of leaves and flowers and Spring.

After all, Winter will be here soon enough.  


**Author's Note:**

> _Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,_  
> Old Time is still a-flying:  
> And this same flower that smiles to-day  
> To-morrow will be dying.
> 
> _The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,_  
> The higher he's a-getting,  
> The sooner will his race be run,  
> And nearer he's to setting.
> 
> _That age is best which is the first,_  
> When youth and blood are warmer;  
> But being spent, the worse, and worst  
> Times still succeed the former.
> 
> _Then be not coy, but use your time,_  
> And while ye may, go marry:  
> For having lost but once your prime,  
> You may for ever tarry. 
> 
> _To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time_ \- Robert Herrick


End file.
